It is hard to believe it was nearly two months have flown by since I last posted about the osprey nest – and we are still watching them! We have stopped, and usually stayed for 2-3 hours, on 48 days since April 12. Fortunately for us, during this strange time of staying close to home during the pandemic, the nest grabbed our attention. We’ve had a fascinating sense of discovery and hardly a dull day while sitting along a rural road watching ‘our’ nest. The youngsters had recently hatched when I ended my last post. This will be glimpses during their growing up process.
July 3: The chicks have a nice covering of feathers. Their body feathers have buffy tips and their flight feathers are stubby pin feathers. Eyes are a rich burnt orange.
July 7: We watch for nearly 3 ½ hours … wait and watch and wonder where the male is. No fish during all that time. Generally the male brings fish for both the hen and the chicks. Has something happened to him? Late in the day we give up
July 8: 3:35 PM: Yeah. All three chicks look just fine, but beg.
5:13 PM: I’ve just finished grumping about the male not doing his job when here he comes with a nice bluegill. That makes the sixth species of fish he has brought in.
I don’t think this will make a full dinner for hen and chicks … and he must agree. He hangs out for a couple of minutes and off he goes.
About 6:30 the hen erupts off the nest calling loudly. Kids know to hunker down and hush up. I look about as she circles higher and finally spot an immature bald eagle way up there. Soon both are so high they are hard to track, and finally I no longer see either. She returns about ten minutes after leaving.
July 12: We arrive 2:55 PM. Kids alone and quiet.
Usually the hen is only gone for about ten minutes, but this is longer.
3:25 PM: Here comes an adult, flying low and not from the usual direction – carrying something heavy. Fish or nesting material? Often the female brings back a stick or nest lining material.
A fight erupts between chicks. Quite vicious. Is this a sign the food supply has been inadequate?
Now the male arrives with a bass. He lands on the nest with it, but all the attention is on the female who is feeding her fish to the chicks. The male leaves and flies to a nearly telephone pole, where he proceeds to eat the head of his bass. Soon he returns to the nest and starts to feed one of the chicks with what is left of his bass.
8:20 PM: We’re back, wondering what they do at dusk. Shadows are long. Yellow sunlight still warms the hills around us. The hen sits on the nest. Kids are mostly sleeping.
9:00 PM. The sun has left the farthest hills and the few clouds have lost their peachy frosting. Coolness seeps in. The breeze still ruffles peach leaves. The hen sits alone, upright. The chicks lie flat. No sign of the male.
Gradually the sky darkens. One lone star appears to the east. When we get home, I put the spotting scope on it – Jupiter and four of its moons.
July 16. 9:15 AM: It is going to be another snotty hot day. We’ve decided to come early and eat a ‘Yellowstone Breakfast’ at the nest. Already 77 degrees, but there is a slight breeze. The barnyard roosters are crowing. A kingbird comes and sits on the line and sputters for a bit. He catches a lot of insects on the fly, and sometimes drops to the road to catch another. The osprey chicks are hungry. The hen just sits up there at the edge of the nest.
One of the chicks poops .. lots of poop. That is a good sign. Perhaps they already have been fed this morning. The day we watched for 3 ½ hours without food, the poops got pretty small.
About 11 AM: Alarm calls! The hen circles higher and higher until I can hardly see her. Chicks are flat on the nest and quiet.
Coming back now. Chasing! She is hot on the tail of an intruding male osprey. Zigging and zagging, they fly low and close. Finally he gets the ‘you’re not welcome’ message. Hen returns to her nest.
July 22: Oh bummer! Before we are even parked, I spot a sorry pile of feathers out in the plowed field across from us. My first thought is, ‘I hope it isn’t the male.’
It isn’t, but one of the chicks has come to a sorry end. Why? The last time we were here I thought I saw a chick flap hard enough for a moment of lift. Did he get too rambunctious? Did one fall overboard during a squabble? Did a gust of wind knock the chick off the nest? Possibly an eagle scooped him out of the nest. I suspect we’ll never know.
The other two chicks are doing just fine. With some energetic flapping one is briefly air born!
….and that notation was a month ago. I’m surprised to find there is still something to watch when we returned to the nest yesterday. Stay tuned.
